Spin Offs, Igma Kalit Part C
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Three days had passed since she had opened the letter from the Swampdon Council. The autumn rains had started and frost had kissed the ground at the higher elevations of her little realm. Those that lived under her protection would be busy harvesting and preserving the bounty of the land in preparation for the coming winter. The Fool, along with Hood, The Body and a handful of her court had gone out to collect the autumn tithe.
Mostly she had been brooding. Intellectually she knew that placing herself against the Tannican Church of Illumination would expose her to dangers that she had taken great effort to avoid over the past couple of centuries. Emotionally she was drawn to go see Meridak and to stand before the council, to see the hope within their eyes at her timely arrival. To have them regard her as a possible saviour after they had so causally removed her from their number and exiled her from her home.
She recognized that her motivation for going was childish, selfish even, she knew that if she did not go, Swampdon would fall to the Tannicans. Her thoughts were a circular tizzy of indecision and fear balanced by a desire to be justified in the eyes of those who had previously condemned her.
Thankfully, late last night a distraction had presented itself to her. The persistent hunter and his band of allies had moved against the old fortress where she maintained a facade of her presence. She had been sound asleep when she felt the intrusion. Immediately she rose, going to the rooftop to scry on the ill considered venture. It had been raining heavily, but it was a simple matter to divert the rain from falling on her, Little-Leaf and the scrying artifact.
She had watched the hunter and his companions carefully move through the old fortress, slaughtering the goblins that had dwelt in the upper levels with relative ease. Then they had carefully and meticulously made their way into the lower levels, evading traps and defeating her guardians as they delved deeper. Her simulacrum and another half score of the undead had proven a more difficult challenge, half of the intruders had died. Still, the hunter and three of his companions had prevailed. She had stared at the slain version of herself with morbid fascination while the victors looted. They withdrew into the cold morning light.
Atop her tower the morning had also dawned, cool, wet and overcast to the point of twilight. The rain fell onto the rooftop all around her, a heavy fog shrouded the valley beyond. Dry within her circle of protection, she shivered. She cleared the images within the vessel before her. Obviously she would have to keep an eye on that hunter and his companions, even if it did seem as if they believed they had prevailed. With any luck they would leave, return home for the winter and forget about the necromancer they had slain.
Meanwhile she had other things that needed looking into, no doubt Ijah was angry over the delay in her travel plans. Igma did not feel any compulsion to justify herself to the woman and hoped that if she observed the two who had come from Swampdon she might gain some further insights. Something that might help her make a decision, one way or the other.
If Ijah was upset about being delayed there was presently no sign that was the case. It was apparent that Igma’s initial intuition about the Kereshi, Walker and Roddarra had been correct. She was glad that she had placed the three of them in the Lover’s Room and pleased that she had spied upon them during such a moment.
She watched for a long while and enjoyed seeing the three of them taking advantage of the overly large bed that was the centrepiece of that particular room. The three who were unknowingly performing for her were all fit, strong and blessed with uncommon comeliness. Bodies entwined, transitioning from intently tender moments to vigorous acts of endurance and climax. They lay together, talking of pleasant things, then one or the others would initiate another round of intimacies. So it went until the two women chased Walker from the bed to the large bath, into which they all splashed laughing and playing together.
Finally, almost reluctantly, Igma turned her attention elsewhere, despite her interest and the temptation to insert herself into that menagerie. She was hoping to gain some insight that might help her make up her mind as to whether of not she should go to Swampdon to fight the Tannicans. Perhaps the girl then?
Igma waved her hand above the surface of the elvish scrying bowl. The rain pounded onto the rooftop, Little-Leaf was half asleep, still perched on the edge of the great vessel. The water in the bowl shimmered, she found Berri in her room as well.
The young halfman was sitting on the sill of the window in the room that she and the half orc had been assigned. The girl was wearing a short shift, sitting in an unladylike position with her lute resting on her lap, one leg dangling towards the floor. She plucked discordantly at the instrument, gazing out at the pouring rain.
“I think Odeena would have like this place.”
“Your turn, Berri.”
“There are a lot of really interesting people here, so many musicians and performers and everyone is really nice.”
“Nice to you. Your turn.”
Berri nodded and reached down for the fancy bottle of Hollen’s Port gin. She teetered precariously on the window sill for a moment as she tilted the bottle back and guzzled a few mouthfuls of the potent drink. She smacked her lips, “Ah… That’s good stuff.”
“You made game. You play!”
“Yeah, yeah.” She slid off the sill, half consumed bottle in one hand, the lute in the other. She stumbled a pace or two then wove her way to the room’s table, where Osran sat impatiently across from the servitor Igma had assigned them. The servitor sat with eternal patience, staring at the half orc. Berri collided into her chair, slapped the bottle on the table and picked up one of the cards that lay face down in front of her.
Igma was somewhat surprised to see that they were all in a mostly undressed state, including the servitor. More surprised and certainly chagrined by the fact they were using one of Igma’s favourite tarot decks to play their game. Berri muttered, “No, that’s not the one…” She looked at another card, “No. This one? No. This one, ha! Yes!” She turned the card over and slapped it back down, “Ha! See that!”
The servitor looked to Berri and then the card, Osran did the same, their blank staring expressions were nearly identical. The servitor, one of Igma’s oldest and most treasured creations, said, “The Maiden.”
“Yeah, the maiden. Just like me. That means I win this round and you two need to take off a clothing.” She burped.
The servitor complied, removing the halter she was wearing, the last of her clothing. Osran grumbled, “I not understand this game Berri. Why do we take clothing off?”
Berri struggled to lean the lute against the edge of the table with one hand, picked up her remaining cards with the other and hid her grinning face behind them. “Opla, er, Opal your turn to start the round.”
“I have no clothing left mistress.”
“Ha! No kidding, great tits by the way.”
“Yes mistress.”
“Berri!”
“What Oscan?”
“This game is dumb. Make no sense.”
“Yum, so firm.”
“Berri stop. She dead.”
“What?” The girl sat back with a startled expression on her face, “Dead?”
“Yeah. She not smell alive. So she is dead, must be.”
“Oh… Is everyone here dead?”
“No, just the servant people.”
“Okay, that’s good. Otherwise this place would have been really crep… creepy, I mean.”
“I think you should not drink.”
“Do you mean generally? Or, now right?”
“Maybe both. I done game. Want talk.”
“Opal’s pretty good at conversation. And she’s pretty, pretty. You sure she dead?”
“Opal, put on clothes. Go get food.”
“Yes mistress.” The servitor did as instructed, Berri gazed at her, it, drunkenly until it departed from the room.
Osran reached over and picked up Berri’s lute as the girl swung her attention back towards her friend, “Oh, you can play if you like.”
The half orc held the instrument, “I not play. Keep safe from you.”
“You’re so considerate Orsan. What are we going to talk?”
“I not go to Maldorn with you all.”
“Ha! Don’t say that.”
“It true, is true.”
“But why? Are you going to stay here?” The girl was sitting up straight now, looking concerned.
“No, Berri. I told you I with child.”
“You did? I don’t remember that.”
“A month back now, bit more than that.”
“Oh, you mean when we were taking about you eating babies?”
“Yes Berri.”
The girl scrunched up her face and appeared to be in deep thought, then asked, “Do you think eating babies is more or less disgusting than undead titties?”
“Berri, I serious, am. I have baby at Treppon Homestead. Been thinking on that all this past time.”
“Oh, you’re really going to leave us?”
Igma stopped scrying. Although the two from Swampdon had not given her any insight as to what she should do, the tarot had spoken to her. She would need some time to meditate on the cards she had seen, but useful action seemed imminent. She was also going to try and extract her deck before it suffered any permanent damage.
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